(This poem was inspired by a broken doll that I saw when I visited Auschwitz in 2007)
Come dolly, I take you for a pram ride.
See Mama, how dolly is dressed so fine.
How warm she is wrapped for our excursion.
Papa, round the garden we take a turn.
Leeba, for the journey I must dress you.
Times are hard and I cannot bear to watch.
Papa is stripped of everything – husband,
father, man. This is perhaps our last chance.
They say – pack for a new life. The rumours
heard cannot be true. The journey is long.
Crowded. You are
hungry. So cold.
At last we arrive, but what is this place?
They tear Papa away, but I keep you
still. Do not stir
little one for
There is a better place, but not found here.
They break my dolly,
Mama, my dolly is broken.
See, she has no face and no hair.
Come dolly, Papa will mend you,
But dolly can see